


Your heart is a muscle

by fakevermeer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Football Player Liam, Football Player Louis, Football Player Niall, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physiotherapy Intern Harry, Zayn is Louis' best mate and isn't in any way connected to the football industry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 09:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4740887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakevermeer/pseuds/fakevermeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is the highest-scoring striker for the English NT. As they are about to set off for Euro 2016, his hamstring’s been acting up. Louis being Louis, he hates being told what to do, so he usually doesn't get along very well with physical therapists. Until Harry shows up, tagging along with the squad as the therapist's intern. In which Niall is a goalie, Liam is a midfielder and team captain (obviously), and Zayn is a good influence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** this is a work of _fiction_ , written for the entertainment of fans. I don’t own anything. Please refrain from showing this to the boys or anyone remotely connected to them. 
> 
> Also, I’ve taken some extreme liberties when it comes to describing the practice of running a national football team and organising a huge event like Euro 2016. Please don’t hate me.
> 
> I have a feeling this is gonna end up being way bigger than I originally anticipated. I am going to try and update every two weeks on Sundays, so bear with me!

Louis is in pain.  
  
Okay, so maybe he’s being a tiny bit over-dramatic, but he’s definitely not comfortable. As he sprints across the pitch, swerving to avoid his safety vest-wearing opponents, his right hamstring gives another painful twitch, and he has to pass the ball to Sebastian just so he can slow down without fucking up their opportunity to score a goal. Sebastian then proceeds to kick it straight into Niall’s gloved hands, and Louis swears softly as coach Gunn blows his whistle to signify the end of training. If it had been Louis taking the shot, they would’ve won. But it hadn’t been him, and they hadn’t won, because his stupid hamstring was acting up. Again.  
  
After a short post-training pep talk explaining once again how important it was that everyone was in optimal physical and mental health before they set off for France a week from now, Gunn left the dressing room so the players could shower and change in relative peace. In his peripheral vision, Louis saw Liam sauntering up to him, and he prepared for the worst. A hand clamped down on his shoulder, a little more insistent than absolutely necessary, and he turned around, a pleasant smile plastered over his features.  
  
‘So, Tommo,’ Liam started amicably, ‘you wanna tell me what that was all about?’  
  
‘I have no idea what you mean.’  
  
‘Right.’ Liam sat down on the bench and started to untie his shoelaces. ‘Because you always pass the ball to Seb when you can take the shot yourself. The most generous striker on the pitch, you are. Not competitive at all.’  
  
‘Shut it,’ Louis shot back, and wow, strong comeback, that. He sat down next to Liam, kicking off his shoes.  
  
As the majority of their teammates was already in the showers, Liam’s features softened a little bit and he nudged Louis’ shoulder.  
  
‘Seriously, mate,’ he said, a little softer, ‘are you okay? Don’t think I didn’t notice that little limp you’ve been perfecting lately.’  
  
‘I’m fine,’ Louis snapped, sitting up. ‘I’m fine,’ he repeated, less hostile. ‘Probably just didn’t do a proper warm up today. Will remember to work on that next time, mister team captain, sir.’ He saluted, but didn’t do Liam the courtesy of standing up for it.  
  
Liam chuckled, taking off his socks and shin guards. ‘Just looking after my squad, Tommo.’  
  
‘As you should.’  
  
Louis stood up, stuffed all his dirty gear into his duffel bag, and changed into an ancient light blue tracksuit. He knew it made him look like a chav but fuck him if it wasn’t comfortable.  
  
‘No shower?’ Liam asked, taking off everything except his pants. ‘I think some of the lads wanna go for some lunch in town after.’  
  
Louis shook his head. ‘I’m making a pit stop at home before the meeting. Don’t really feel like being surrounded by people all day today.’  
  
‘Fair enough. Don’t be late,’ Liam warned him as Louis slung his bag over his shoulder.  
  
‘ _Yes_ , dad!’  
  
Louis only just managed to avoid the dirty sock aimed at his head as he ducked out of the dressing room.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Louis’ hair was still damp when he locked the door of his Islington apartment and flagged down a cab to take him to Southwark. Coach Gunn had insisted on having the crew meeting at his enormous penthouse, promising a lavish dinner and a gorgeous view of the city at night. Louis had been to a couple of Gunn’s dinner parties before, and he never failed to impress.  
  
Respecting the importance of this meeting, Louis had made an effort to look presentable and had put on a tailored dark blue suit, even though he’d rather put his old tracksuit back on after his shower. His mint-coloured tie complimented his eyes nicely (or so one of his regular stylists had told him). The only comfort he had allowed himself were the loafers he was wearing. Dress shoes were the enemy, as far as Louis was concerned.  
  
Taking the time to get ready at home had also given him the opportunity to rub some massage oil into his hamstring in an attempt to soothe the dull ache that had lingered after the day’s training. He really should remember to warm up properly. If there was one thing he couldn’t use right now, on the doorstep of Euro 2016, it was a hamstring injury.  
  
The cabbie pulled over in front of a modern-looking apartment building. Louis paid his fare, straightened his tie after he got out of the cab. Aware that another cab pulled over right as the one he’d arrived in drove off, Louis walked over to the doorman who recognized him immediately and let him through without trouble. As he pressed the button for the lifts, he looked back to see a man in his forties talking to the doorman. There was a young guy with him as well, and just as Louis studied him curiously, he happened to look up. Their gazes locked for a split second, before Louis averted his eyes to stare at the unmoving lift doors in front of him.  
  
It took forever for one of the two lifts to arrive, and by the time the distinct _ding_ of the opening doors sounded, the two men who had been talking to the doorman just now had joined him silently. Louis got in the lift and the men followed him in. He looked up at them with his fingers hovering over the buttons.  
  
‘What floor, gentlemen?’  
  
‘Top, please,’ the older one said politely.  
  
Louis smiled at him pleasantly and pressed the button. After that, he extended his hand.  
  
‘Here for the Gunn penthouse party, as well. In that case, I’m just gonna introduce myself ahead of the meeting,’ he said. ‘Louis Tomlinson.’  
  
The man took his hand and shook it, short and firm. ‘I know,’ he smirked. ‘Richard McPherson. I’ll be one of your physiotherapists in France.’  
  
Louis nodded at him. The Scottish accent and the mischievous glint in the man’s eyes made him instantly likeable. Louis usually despised the physiotherapists that were supposed to look after them, mostly because they just _wouldn’t stop worrying_ and while Louis appreciated that they were just doing their jobs, they usually made it really hard for him to do his. Richard, though, he seemed different. Refreshing.  
  
Introducing himself to Richard almost made him forget about the young guy he who hid half behind the Scotsman. He stuck out his hand again. The younger man shook it as well, long slender fingers entirely encompassing Louis’ own.  
  
‘Louis Tomlinson,’ he repeated.  
  
The man nodded at him, smiled serenely. ‘Harry Styles.’  
  
If the _ding_ that meant they’d reached the top floor hadn’t interrupted them so rudely, Louis was sure he would’ve stared at Harry for a little longer than was socially acceptable. His voice was deep and steadying, and although he seemed comfortable enough in his own skin, his surroundings made him seem jittery, like he was nervous about something. Louis wouldn’t be surprised if this was his first big event within the football industry. It made him want to be the one to introduce him to the insane little universe he called his life, and where did _that_ desire suddenly come from?  
  
They’d stepped out of the lift and into the corridor leading to Gunn’s front door, and Louis was pressing the doorbell before he and Harry had a chance to get a conversation going. Gunn opened the door to a penthouse that was already reasonably crowded.  
  
All twenty-three players of the national selection would be there tonight, as well as the eleven members of the coaching staff that would be coming with them to France. Gunn had called this meeting-slash-dinner party mostly to get everyone acquainted properly before they set off. As the industry was largely run by word of mouth, when people didn’t know each other yet they’d definitely know of each other. Louis was able to identify everyone already present. McPherson and Harry were the only two he’d never seen before today.  
  
Gunn showed them in and gave McPherson and Harry a short tour, leaving Louis, who was familiar with the penthouse, to mingle with the other attendees. He spotted Niall at the bar that closed off one side of Gunn’s enormous kitchen, pint in hand.  
  
‘Doing your Irish heritage proud, I see,’ Louis said by way of greeting, pointing at the half empty glass.  
  
‘I never pass up an opportunity to honour my mum,’ Niall replied, offering up his fist for Louis to bump. ‘Get you one?’  
  
‘Cheers,’ Louis said, turning around and scanning the space.  
  
‘Better enjoy it while it lasts, right?’ Niall said, handing Louis his beer. As soon as they would start their official training in France, two weeks before the actual tournament would kick off, alcohol would be a no go. Louis clinked Niall’s glass with his own in agreement and took a sip.  
  
They drank their beers in companionable silence for a while, letting the conversations around them fill the space as more and more people filed into the penthouse. At some point, Louis saw McPherson and Harry get themselves a drink – McPherson holding a glass of whisky while Harry had his hands wrapped around a tall glass of something so colourful it looked like it should have one of those tiny umbrellas.  
  
Louis tried not to, but he knew he was staring. It was just really hard _not_ to stare at Harry, okay? With the soft brown curls that just brushed past his shoulders and his tall, slender build he stood out from the crowd of professional football players and ex-football players. The suit he was wearing fit him in all the right places but it was also pretty obvious this was the first time he was wearing it in public. Louis’ eyes lingered on Harry’s pointed dress shoes and ouch, he didn’t envy Harry’s feet.  
  
He was jerked back to reality when Niall touched Louis’ elbow with his own.  
  
‘What?’ Louis asked – he was pretty sure Niall had been talking to him a second ago. Niall just nodded in the opposite direction. Gunn was trying to get everyone to gather round. Louis spotted Liam standing right behind Gunn, his hands clasped behind his back, looking like he was going to start singing a heart-wrenching rendition of God Save The Queen any second now. Louis hid his smile in his free hand.  
  
‘Gentlemen!’ Gunn started, and the murmuring conversations slowly died down until everybody was focused on the coach. ‘Thank you all so much for coming. Tonight we have the opportunity to get to know each other a little better before we set off for France together, as a _team_.’  
  
A few hoots from a couple of the players.  
  
‘As you are all aware,’ Gunn continued, ‘a national squad consists of more than just a couple of idiots running around on a pitch with some other idiot shouting at them from the side lines. Each and every single one of you is vital to English success in France. We need to work together to make this happen. So! I know this is all very first-day-of-high-school-ish, and I know most of you have already met at this point, but I would like to form a big circle and have everyone tell us their name, age, their position within the squad, and their favourite karaoke song.’  
  
Louis chuckled. Gunn was partial to a bit of karaoke, especially after a beer or two. Louis knew for a fact that somewhere in this penthouse there was an incredible karaoke setup stashed away, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Gunn would drag it out before the night was over.  
  
Slowly, a big circle formed, everyone standing side by side with their drinks in hand. Gunn turned to Liam standing beside him.  
  
‘Team captain, care to go first?’  
  
‘Of course.’ Liam looked around the circle, smiling confidently at everyone. ‘Alright, so I’m Liam Payne, I’m 25 and I’m a midfielder and team captain during this insane adventure we’re about to embark on!’ A few of the guys cheered and raised their pints. ‘Oh, and my favourite karaoke song has to be -’ pause for effect, ‘- Mirrors by Justin Timberlake.’  
  
He got some scattered applause for his song choice, and the next person in the circle is up. Louis took another sip of his beer and listened to team mates and staff members rattling off names, ages, and mostly straight forward karaoke classics like I Will Survive and We Will Rock You.  
  
At some point, it’s Niall’s turn. He raised his almost empty glass at the circle gathered around them.  
  
‘Cheers lads, I’m Niall Horan and I’m one of the goalies tagging along to France. Oh, right, age – I’m 23. And I can sing along to anything Michael Bublé so if anyone forces me to do some karaoke I’d probably go for Feeling Good. Or no, wait, Home! _Another summer day, has come and gone away…_ ’  
  
He actually managed to get some of the lads to croon along with him, extremely out of tune and not even closely resembling the original song. Louis chuckled into his pint. He needed about four more of those before they’d convince him to start singing.  
  
‘Alright, alright, alright,’ Niall laughed, bumping into Louis’ shoulder. ‘Next!’  
  
Louis looked up and caught Harry looking curiously at him from across the big circle. Louis grinned and looked away, locking eyes with a couple of team mates here and there.  
  
‘Hello,’ he said simply, nodding at the small crowd. ‘As you are probably _all_ aware,’ he started, laying on the cocky striker attitude extra thick, ‘I’m Louis Tomlinson, the national squad’s _top striker_ with a _record_ amount of goals -’ Niall punched him in the shoulder and some of the other players started protesting loudly, wide grins plastered over their faces. Louis just kept going. ‘- and the absolute _star_ of this team, ask anyone.’  
  
‘Get your head out of your arse, Tomlinson,’ Gunn chuckled. Louis brought up both hands.  
  
‘Alright, alright, sorry. Though you gotta give me the record amount of goals.’ Gunn nodded shortly at him, smiling. ‘I’m 25, by the way.’ Louis finished his pint and put down the glass.  
  
‘Karaoke song?’ Niall prompted.  
  
‘Ah, right. I’m gonna go wiiiiiith…’ He looked up to find Harry still looking at him. Louis raised his eyebrows only slightly, and it’s hard to tell with the lights dimmed but Louis thought he could see a blush creeping up his cheeks. Louis didn’t look away when he answered. ‘One Way Or Another. By Blondie.’  
  
This earned him some whoops and whistles, and he finally looked away from Harry. As the person next to him started his turn, Louis tried to focus on what he was saying, but he had a hard time concentrating on anything that wasn't Harry. Okay, so Louis had maybe been flirting a little bit with him just now. Probably a bad idea. No, _definitely_ a bad idea – they would be stuck together for a couple of weeks, at least. Probably longer, if Louis had any say in the matter - he firmly believed England would make it through to the quarter finals, _at least_. And Louis didn’t even know what Harry was doing here in the first place. The fact that he’d come along with McPherson probably meant he was part of the fitness staff, but he hadn’t told Louis anything yet.  
  
When it was finally Harry’s turn in the circle, Louis shifted his weight to his other leg and crossed his arms. Harry cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet a little bit. He was taller than the men on either side of him, in fact, he was probably taller than most guys present. He was definitely taller than Louis, and Louis really shouldn’t linger on that thought for too long. He forced himself to focus on Harry’s words.  
  
‘Um, hi everyone, I’m Harry,’ he said, and Louis was once again struck by the deepness of his voice, the way he sounded like he thought every single syllable through before uttering them. ‘I’m 22, and I’m Mr McPherson’s intern -’  
  
‘Don’t you Mr McPherson me,’ McPherson interjected, nudging Harry in the shoulder, grinning wide. ‘I already feel ancient.’  
  
‘Alright, I’m Richard’s intern for the duration of Euro 2016, and I’m extremely pleased I’m allowed to come with to France. Had no idea until yesterday. Richard’s fond of keeping secrets.’  
  
‘No, my lad, I’m fond of surprises,’ McPherson protested. Harry grinned down at him, unclasping the hands behind his back to run his long fingers through his curls. He looked up at Louis before he continued.  
  
‘And my karaoke song of choice is It’s Raining Men.’  
  
And with that, Harry seemed to have won over the entire squad and staff. He beamed around at them before taking a sip of his ridiculous cocktail. That boy was way too charming for his own good, Louis decided. Louis liked him. Or, at the very least, he didn’t hate him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd try to update every two weeks, but I've been on a bit of a writing spree so here's chapter 2 for you :)

Louis _hated_ Harry.

Okay, rewind. Their professional relationship had taken off pleasantly enough, with Harry and McPherson attending one of the final training days on English soil, a few days before they would collectively fly out to Lyon. The physiotherapist and his intern had observed the squad, McPherson had talked to Gunn for a while with Harry shadowing him. Louis hadn’t tried to score just then, of course not. He was completely focused on the game.

After they’d finished and Louis’ side had won (obviously), Louis and Niall followed the rest of the team into the dressing rooms, where Gunn, McPherson and Harry were waiting for them. Gunn addressed the entire team.

‘Okay lads, as you have probably noticed Richard and Harry have joined us today. Mostly to see you play, get familiar with your techniques, talk about some possible follow up action.’

Louis frowned. He looked around, and most of his teammates, in various states of undress, nodded at Gunn’s words.

‘Alright. We’d like to talk to some of you separately, so if we need you, we’ll call you over to the next room, right? Max, would you be so kind to join us?’

Max got up, looking slightly surprised but relaxed enough, and followed the three men into the room. The door closed behind them. Louis shrugged and continued taking off his shirt and stuffing it in his duffel bag. As Louis was about to jump into the showers, Max returned. Gunn called in Sebastian next. Louis intercepted Max as he headed towards the showers.

‘What was all that about?’

Max gave him a sly smile. ‘Don’t worry ‘bout me, Tommo, I’m right as rain. Just wanted to talk about that dodgy knee of mine. Y’know, as a precaution.’

A precaution. Right. Louis managed to shoot Max a grin and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Glad to hear it, man, wouldn’t wanna miss having you next to me in the front.’

Louis took a quick shower and was still towelling himself off when Sebastian came back out, looking perfectly fine.

‘Louis, come in please,’ Gunn said, and Louis’ head whipped around.

‘Me?’

‘Any other football players called Louis present?’ Gunn deadpanned.

Louis shrugged, draped his towel around his shoulders and sauntered into the next room, deeply aware he wasn’t wearing anything but his pants. McPherson and Harry were seated on a narrow wooden bench, hunched over a pile of papers between them. Harry was chewing on the end of a pencil, and Louis had to look away. He focused on Gunn instead.

‘What’s up?’ he asked.

‘What’s bothering you?’ Gunn asked, straightforward as ever.

Louis frowned. McPherson and Harry put their papers down and focused on Gunn and Louis.

‘Well, at the moment, you lot are,’ he tried, but it didn’t come out nearly as light-hearted as he’d intended it to.

‘Louis,’ Gunn warned him, and Louis hated him for his ability to look straight through him.

‘Harry here noticed you were limping during practice today,’ McPherson cut in.

To his credit, Harry looked extremely uncomfortable.

‘Um, not limping, as such,’ Harry tried, ‘more, like… Like you were moving like something was bothering you. Maybe.’

Louis couldn’t figure out if he should be furious or impressed.

‘So,’ Gunn tried again, without waiting for Louis to respond, ‘what’s bothering you?’

Louis hesitated, and then Gunn’s hand was on his shoulder.

‘Louis, please be honest about this and tell me if something’s up, because I really need my top striker to be at his physical best. Not just for France, but for himself as well.’

‘Fine,’ Louis sighed, and his shoulders sagged as he gave in.

Gunn rarely needed to use his Serious Voice on Louis but Louis had decided very early on in their professional working relationship that he would be honest with the coach when he would.

‘My hamstring’s been acting up a little lately. Nothing I can’t handle, it’s just… At the end of a game I need to watch my sprinting.’

Gunn looked at McPherson.

‘What do you think?’

‘I want to take a look. Preferably when you’re all warmed up,’ he added, looking at Louis. ‘There’s another short training tomorrow, isn’t there?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Alright. We’ll be there so I can take a look right after you’re done. That okay with you, coach?’

Gunn nodded. ‘Absolutely. Alright, thank you Louis, you can go. We’ll see you tomorrow.’

Louis’ mouth twisted into something that had to resemble a smile. Before he turned around to leave the room, he could see Harry staring at him, eyes big and looking like he felt quite terrible about speaking up in the first place. Louis sort of wanted to tell him it’s alright, that he was just doing his job, but he also sort of wanted to smack him.

And now he was on his stomach on McPherson’s massage table, getting the back of his right leg prodded at, and he hated Harry.

‘Does this hurt?’ McPherson checked with Louis for what had to be the millionth time in the span of five minutes.

‘ _No_ ,’ Louis managed to grind out, and although he sounded a lot more pained than he would’ve liked, someone who didn’t know him very well could attribute that to the fact that he was lying on his stomach and having the air pushed out of his lungs. Louis had replied like that to all of McPherson’s questions, and he had been honest. Well, relatively honest. The way McPherson was rubbing at the tissue surrounding the top of his hamstring and the bottom of his glute wasn’t particularly enjoyable, but it wasn’t excruciating, either. If anything, he felt like whatever it was McPherson was doing, he was making the whole hamstring situation a lot worse. Louis had always been a firm believer in just letting things fix themselves. So far, that had always worked.

‘Harry, come over here for a second,’ McPherson said over his shoulder, and Louis could hear Harry put down his notes and join his superior at the table. ‘Feel this here.’

And just like that, Harry’s fingers were on Louis, and Louis was pretty sure he preferred the uncomfortable not-quite-pain to whatever was happening now. Harry’s fingers were considerably warmer than McPherson’s had been, his fingertips tentatively feeling out the connective tissue, and Louis tried to stop himself from shivering. He heard McPherson talk to Harry about the different muscle groups in the upper leg, throwing around some technical names that sounded Latin and important, but it didn’t register. Harry’s hand was on the back of his leg, high up on the back of his leg, rubbing absent-minded circles into the muscles, making Louis both relax and tense up.

‘Alright, Louis, we’ve seen enough, thank you,’ McPherson said, the use of his name jerking Louis out of his near-trance.

Harry’s hand was gone, and Louis knew he was fucked.

*

Later that day, Louis was sitting in the middle of his bed, surrounded by piles of clothing and an empty suitcase. His laptop was open on his bedside table, keeping a Skype call with Liam and Niall going while the three of them tried to pack for France.

‘Do I bring condoms?’ Niall asked, while Louis tried to figure out if he should bring his dark blue or his black Adidas hoodie. He ended up throwing both of them into his suitcase.

‘Do you really think you’ll have time to go after some French girl between all the training, games, and press we’re supposed to be doing? Did you even look at the schedule?’ Liam replies.

‘We do have a couple of rest days, right?’

‘Yes. Which you are supposed to use for _resting_.’

‘Bring the condoms, Niall,’ Louis interjected. Niall made a delighted sound while Liam started spluttering. ‘Better safe than sorry.’

Niall giggled and Louis saw him throw an entire box of condoms in the general direction of his luggage. Louis got off the bed, opened his underwear drawer and took out a whole stack of pants, piling them into his suitcase. As they had no idea how long they’d stay in France for, packing was a little tricky.

‘How many pairs of socks are you bringing?’ Louis asked the other two.

‘Dunno, ‘round ten?’ Liam replied. ‘Sure there’s laundry facilities wherever we’re going so that should be fine.’

Louis hummed, and he realized he was trying to distract himself by thinking about dull things like socks and pants and doing laundry just so he wouldn’t have to think about Harry’s hand on the back of his thigh. He cleared his throat and gathered all the clothes that were still on his bed into a big ball, stuffed it into the suitcase, and zipped it shut.

‘Done,’ he said, shoving the suitcase towards the door.

‘Did you pack a suit?’ Liam asked, sounding like he was going to start rattling off his travel checklist at him.

‘Yes.’

‘Passport? Toothbrush? Medication? PJs?’

Louis sighed fondly. There it was.

‘ _Yes_ , dad.’

Niall snorted.

‘Just checking,’ Liam said.

‘I know. Thanks, Liam. Wouldn’t know where I’d be without you.’

‘Hey!’ Niall shouted, sounding offended.

‘And you, Niall. Thanks for supplying the entire squad with condoms. I’m sure everyone’ll be forever grateful.’

‘That’s more like it,’ Niall said, getting close to the camera on his laptop and grinning widely.

‘Right, lads, I’m gonna go take a shower and have an early night – see you tomorrow at the airport, yeah?’

Liam and Niall said their goodbyes, and Liam made Louis repeat all the details of their flight out to Lyon back to him so he was sure Louis wouldn’t miss their flight. Closing the Skype window, Louis was still smiling broadly at his laptop, starting to feel properly excited for their France adventure. It was his first big event with the national squad, and he was determined to make it a memorable one. For himself, but also for the team, and the country. He knew they’d put together a great team, so now they only needed to deliver.

No pressure.

Louis sighed, opened his browser, and Googled ‘ _football hamstring injury_ ’. He definitely knew better than to rely on the internet for calming down his anxieties about possible health scares, but he just couldn’t resist. After the examination, McPherson had told Louis he should keep an eye out for his hamstring, and had made him promise to immediately tell him or Harry if something felt even the slightest bit off. Louis had agreed, mostly to get McPherson off his back and to get out of the room and away from Harry.

Like he’d expected, the information he found online did nothing to settle his worries. He read about torn muscles, recovery taking months, and the one thing he really did not want to read: _once you have problems with your hamstring, it can trouble you for the rest of your sporting life._

He firmly closed his laptop, got undressed and got into the shower, trying to think about anything but his hamstring. Or Harry. He definitely shouldn’t be thinking about Harry, he thought, while he turned the shower knob and tested the water temperature.

He shouldn’t be thinking about Harry, or the way his hand rubbing distracted circles into the back of his leg had made him feel like his brain was about to leak out of his ears. The way it had made him want to shiver and melt into Harry’s touch, made him want Harry to put his hands on him properly. He really _really_ shouldn’t. For fuck’s sake, he didn’t even know the guy. They’d only met a few days ago, and sure, he was incredibly fit and seemed nice enough, not like the arseholes Louis usually fell for, but they were going to be working together for at least a couple of weeks so he’d better not make this awkward.

On top of that, Louis didn’t even know if Harry was into guys in the first place. Then again, when he thought of Harry’s face when he’d said It’s Raining Men was his favourite karaoke song… There was definitely _something_ going on there.

He’d been half hard since that morning, and he’d been trying to ignore it. But he was in the shower, and it was easy, and Harry wasn’t there, he would never know, so it didn’t really matter, did it? So Louis thought _fuck it_ and steadied himself against the shower wall with one hand while he let the other slide down his stomach lazily, rubbing circles as he went, and when he reached his cock, he took himself in hand and stroked himself to full hardness in a couple of swift movements.

He imagined what it would be like if it was Harry touching him like this, twisting his wrist so he could thumb the head of his cock delicately, making Louis squirm. What it would feel like to have Harry’s warm hand, his long fingers and soft fingertips, wrapped around him like this, stroking slowly but purposefully, setting every nerve ending in Louis’ body on fire and making him want to beg Harry for more, more, _more_.

Louis knew he should feel guilty about moaning Harry’s name softly when he came, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do so.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the squad arrives in Lyon, Niall is a cockblocker, and Harry confuses Louis. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! As long as I can keep it going, I'll try to update every Sunday. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Louis made the flight, but he was starting to wish he hadn’t. In a cruel twist of fate the gods of travel planning had made it so that Louis was seated directly behind Harry, which meant he had to deal with Harry’s ridiculous mane for at least an hour and a half. He’d had to watch Harry fold himself into his seat, trying to coordinate his limbs in a way that reminded Louis of new-born giraffes. It had been way too adorable and Louis definitely hadn’t signed up for that, especially when he hadn’t even finished his first cup of tea of the day.

He decided to distract himself by annoying Liam with questions about the next few weeks for the entire flight, which worked. Sort of. Harry climbing back out of his seat after they landed was almost as distracting as Harry climbing into his seat – the way he ran his hand through his hair and tried to stretch a little in the confined space of the cabin had Louis fidgeting with his carry-on bag and leaving the plane as fast as he could.

Luckily, as soon as they had exited the plane, everything started to happen at the same time, and Louis had no time to get distracted by stupid long-haired gangly interns. The whole squad was rushed towards two huge tour buses that were to take them from the airport to the place that would become their home away from home for the next couple of weeks. The England team had secured a nice setup just outside Lyon, relatively close to the airport which would be convenient for flying out to the other cities they’d be playing in.

After they arrived, several of the players whistled appreciatively when exiting the tour buses – they were surrounded by luxurious-looking cabins spread out around a cosy main square. Louis could make out something that looked like a sauna, and he sighed longingly. Flying always made him feel disgusting and tense, so visiting their own private sauna immediately went up on his mental ‘things to do when we get to Lyon’ list.

As it turned out, each cabin contained four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a spacious kitchen attached to a living room outfitted with a huge flat screen tv. The squad had been divided up into foursomes, and as coach Gunn was about to read out the list to announce who was staying with whom and where, Louis felt something that slightly resembled panic. What if he was put in a cabin with Harry? How would he be able to focus on _anything_?

When had being around Harry started to make him feel nervous in the first place? The chances of them ending up in the same cabin were next to nothing anyway, as Louis didn’t expect Gunn to mix up the players and the staff. He forced himself to relax and listened to Gunn reading out names.

‘…- in cabin number three. Cabin number four will be Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, Liam Payne, and Harry Styles. Cabin number five! We have…-’

Louis leaned into Liam, who was standing next to him. _Of course_.

*

Getting settled in the cabin was easy. Between the four of them, Harry was the odd one out, being both the youngest and the newest member of their little clique – Louis had known Liam and Niall for a good three years now. Louis tried to make Harry feel welcome, and he could tell Niall and Liam were doing the same.

They all claimed one of the four bedrooms, and Louis ended up with the one at the back of the little cabin, next to the bathroom and the furthest from the living room. He set his suitcase down in one corner, put his hands on his hips and studied the room for a few seconds.

It was a reasonably large room, outfitted with a handsome king-size bed, a large wardrobe that Louis probably wouldn’t use anyway, and a comfy chair next to the window looking out on the hilly fields beyond the resort. Louis unpacked some of his things, like his toothbrush and his razor, but he knew he was going to end up living out of his suitcase for the next few weeks – places like this would never really feel like home, so he didn’t bother trying to make it his own space.

He walked out of his bedroom, toothbrush and razor in hand, to examine the bathroom he’d be sharing with the other person at this end of the cabin. The door to the other bedroom was open. Louis stopped in his tracks and peeked inside to say hello. And there was Harry, kneeling on the floor in front of his abnormally large suitcase. _Of course_ it would be Harry.

Louis decided to forego letting his head sink into his hands so he could keep looking at Harry, who was, at the moment, carefully unpacking several pairs of trousers with a level of concentration that rivalled that of some of Louis’ teammates during an important game. When Louis looked a little closer, he could see that Harry’s bedside table already held a framed picture and a pile of books. Harry was humming something that sounded a lot like the Marseillaise. It was utterly endearing.

The second Louis decided he should probably keep on walking to avoid looking like a creepy stalker staring at Harry from afar, Harry looked up.

‘Oh, hi!’ he said, scrambling up from the floor, limbs going everywhere.

Louis smiled sheepishly. ‘Hi.’

Harry raked a hand through his ridiculous hair.

‘I think I brought too much stuff,’ Harry said, pouting a little. ‘I had no idea how to pack for this trip so I guess I just, like… packed everything.’

‘Trust me, nobody knew how to pack for this trip,’ Louis reassured him. ‘If it wasn’t for Liam, I probably only would’ve brought a toothbrush and a spare pair of pants.’

That made Harry laugh, and Louis decided that making Harry laugh would become one of his top priorities while they were here. It was a really good laugh.

‘I guess it is nice to know I wasn’t the only one at a bit of a loss about this.’

Louis snorted. ‘You should see the others. I know for a fact that Niall packed an entire box of condoms.’

And why exactly was it necessary for him to share this particular bit of information with Harry? Louis wanted to slam the door in his own face. It seemed to amuse Harry, though.

‘Sounds like he’s got some serious seducing to do.’

‘Eh, it’s Niall, so all he has to do is grin his goofy grin and maybe play up the accent a little bit. It’s unfair, really.’

Harry actually looked him over, his eyes lingering a beat too long on Louis’ crotch, before replying. ‘I’m sure it’s easy enough for you, too.’

Louis honestly didn’t know how to interpret that, let alone _respond_ to that, so he just rubbed at his neck and grinned a little, trying not to blush.

‘Anyway,’ he jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom, ‘just gonna put some of my stuff in there. Good luck unpacking all your… stuff.’

He fled the scene before Harry could say another word. He went into the bathroom and saw that Harry had already been in there – at least, Louis supposed the strawberry-scented shampoo was Harry’s and not something complimentary the resort staff had left there. Wherever Louis looked, something of Harry’s was there, and he wanted to scream. They only just arrived and it was becoming increasingly clear that avoiding Harry Styles was going to be absolutely impossible.

*

So he might be a little drunk. Well, not _drunk_ , because he could still have conversations with people without stumbling over complicated words like ‘championship’ and ‘tournament’, but he was definitely tipsy. It was all Niall’s fault, really – the second Gunn had finished his little introduction speech to start off the welcome party Niall had supplied Louis with a steady stream of incredible red wine. They were in France, after all.

It was right after finishing his third glass and right before Gunn started up the karaoke equipment he’d inevitably brought with him from England that Louis decided that he really _really_ needed to take a piss.

‘Loo break,’ he mumbled into Niall’s ear.

‘Make it quick, I’m pretty sure everyone wants to witness your amazing rendition of One Way Or Another,’ Niall said, grinning widely and pouring himself another glass of wine, emptying the bottle.

Louis groaned and made his way out of the small crowd that had gathered in the middle of the square. He had to look around for a little bit until he found the cabin with the huge number four plastered on the door. Maybe he was drunker than he thought. He barged in and promptly ran into Harry with so much force that he almost stumbled over backwards. If it hadn’t been for Harry’s cat-like reflexes making him grab Louis by the upper arms, he probably would’ve injured himself. Which would’ve been… ironic.

Louis stared up at Harry, who was staring right back.

‘Uh. Sorry. Thanks,’ Louis managed.

‘You okay?’ Harry asked.

His hands were still on Louis’ biceps. They were still staring right at each other, wide-eyed and unblinking. Even in the dim light, Louis could basically count Harry’s lashes. His pupils were large and his lips were redder than usual - he’d probably had as much of that wine as Louis at this point. He realized Harry had asked a question and that it would probably be polite to answer.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry for barging in like that, I didn’t think anyone was in here,’ Louis mumbled.

He looked away, cleared his throat, and Harry released his grip on Louis’ arms. Louis quietly mourned the loss of contact.

‘Spilled some wine down my shirt,’ Harry explained. ‘Had to get changed. Thought it was a bit early to start walking around shirtless.’

‘Wine stains. Nasty,’ Louis said dumbly, trying his absolute best _not_ to think of Harry walking around shirtless.

The sound of cheers drifted down from the square. Harry giggled. ‘Did Gunn get his karaoke set out?’

Louis was still stuck on the fact that Harry had actually _giggled_ just now and it took him about a minute to nod in answer to the question.

‘Right,’ Harry said, stepping aside to let Louis into the cabin properly. ‘I’ll let you get to whatever it was you were going to do in there.’

Louis nodded again, but didn’t actually go inside. There were a million possibilities about his next course of action swirling around in his brain but stepping inside, letting Harry leave and closing the door behind him wasn’t one of them.

Harry seemed a bit reluctant to leave, himself. He was still standing there, staring at Louis with an expectant look in his eye. Defiant, even. Like he was daring Louis to make a move, like he was giving him an opening. Was he giving him an opening?

The last thought that flitted through Louis’ brain before he made up his mind was _fuck it_. He seemed to be thinking that a lot lately.

He stepped inside, and slammed the door shut behind him before Harry could even think of leaving. His eyes didn’t leave Harry’s for a second, and the flicker of amusement that crossed over Harry’s face after Louis closed the door didn’t escape him. Before he could go with it, though, Louis was reminded of the reason he’d marched up to the cabin in the first place.

‘Actually, I really need the loo,’ he managed to get out, eyes still trained on Harry. ‘Don’t move, okay?’

Harry nodded, and Louis spun on his heel to escape to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. After he flushed and walked over to the sink to wash his hands, he stared at himself in the mirror, trying to make sense of what the fuck was going on. Harry Styles, fit, gorgeous, sort of pleasantly drunk and quite possibly a little less than straight Harry Styles was just outside of that door. If he hadn’t turned and ran while Louis was in the bathroom, that was. Louis dried his hands and for a split second he was as nervous to open the door as he would be right before entering the pitch for a big game.

He opened the door. Harry was still there, perched on the armrest of the cosy-looking couch, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked like he sat down as soon as he heard the door open, like he had been pacing back and forth, trying to decide what to do. Louis couldn’t blame him.

Louis took a few steps in Harry’s direction, very aware of the silence between them. Harry looked up at him, eyes wide.

‘Do you want to go back to the party?’ Louis asked, coming to a halt right in front of Harry.

Harry shook his head.

‘Not really.’ His voice was hoarse.

‘Good,’ Louis whispered, crowding into Harry’s personal space, edging Harry’s legs apart using his hip, fitting himself snugly between them. His face was inches away from Harry’s. ‘I really want to kiss you now. Is that okay?’

Harry hummed, a soft sound that Louis could get used to hearing, and nodded his head ever so slightly. Louis closed the distance between their mouths and pressed his lips to Harry’s, allowing himself to put his hands on Harry’s upper arms, mirroring the way Harry had caught him stumbling into the cabin a few minutes ago. Only a few short minutes ago, Louis mused, as he opened his mouth against Harry’s a little bit, exploring the possibilities.

Louis was taken off guard by Harry’s responsiveness, the way his tongue immediately darted out to meet Louis’, the soft groaning noises he made as they deepened the kiss together. It had started out innocently enough, but within minutes they were breathlessly sliding their tongues together in an open-mouthed kiss that was bordering on filthy. And Harry’s hands were still clasped behind his back. Louis made a frustrated little sound against Harry’s lips – he needed those hands on him. Immediately.

‘Touch me,’ he groaned against Harry’s mouth.

‘Sorry, can’t.’

Louis pulled back, keeping Harry at arm’s length by his shoulders.

‘What?’ Harry couldn’t quite meet his eye and for a split second Louis was terrified he’d just gone and done something horrible. ‘Are you okay? Do you want to stop?’

That made Harry look up. ‘No,’ he said, voice clear. ‘It’s just, like… Remember when McPherson made me feel your hamstring?’

‘How could I forget.’ Louis tried to keep the sarcasm out of his tone, he really _tried_. Harry didn’t seem bothered either way.

‘Well… I kind of didn’t want to, like, stop touching you. And, um, I don’t want to ruin it. This. Whatever it is. So, if you let me touch you again, like, now, here, I’m a little scared I’m never gonna want to stop. And that’s probably, like, not very helpful. For either of us. Right now.’

Louis wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the fact that Harry honestly didn’t make _any sense_ , but he had no idea what to do with that. Before he could make his wine-soaked brain figure out the proper response to the situation, though, the front door of the cabin burst open. Louis and Harry sprang apart as Niall marched into the cabin, his eyes finding Louis.

‘Mate! What took you so long?’

He slung his arm around Louis’ shoulder and proceeded to drag him towards the door. Only then, he noticed Harry was there, as well. The way he didn’t pick up on the weird tension in the room combined with the way he was slurring his words told Louis more than enough. He tried to shoot Harry an apologetic look, but Harry was looking at the open door with a face that was practically expressionless.

‘Oh, hiya, Harry. Come along lads, karaoke time! Louis, I may or may not have put your name on the list so better prepare for the performance of your life.’

Before he knew it, Louis was dragged out of the cabin and Niall was pressing another over-filled glass of wine into his hands. He downed it in one go and made his way to the stage, looking around to see if Harry had followed them out. He didn’t see him anywhere.

As he got up on the stage, he tried to ignore the disappointment curling around in his stomach.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry had made out. Louis wants them to talk about it, but apparently it's really difficult to get Harry alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there will be football players actually /playing football/ in the next chapter. I PROMISE!

‘From this point on, the consumption of alcohol is strictly prohibited,’ coach Gunn croaked. He was standing in front of his rough-looking squad, trying to keep a motivating speech going about their first training in France, but Louis was sure he was nursing a hangover that could rival Niall’s. ‘Today’s training will be a slow, short one. Let’s warm up. That is all.’

Gunn started them off jogging around the pitch at a relaxed pace that Louis knew he would probably be able to keep going for about five minutes before falling over. His head was bursting, even though he’d made sure to take some painkillers and drink a lot of water before crashing into bed the night before. Maybe his hangover wasn’t necessarily alcohol-inspired.

He hadn’t seen Harry since yesterday – it was just a simple squad training this morning so staff was off doing something else. Maybe they got to sleep in. Louis felt an irrational pang of anger at the thought. Instead of lingering on Harry, he decided to focus his attention on Niall, who was currently struggling to keep up the pace next to him.

‘I’m never drinking again,’ Louis growled.

‘You don’t mean that,’ Niall responded, panting and already sweating. Despite his discomfort, he still managed to grin brightly at Louis. ‘Besides, if I remember correctly, you actually got lucky last night. Thanks to me.’

‘What _are_ you on about?’

‘You and Harry? You took _way_ too long going for a piss, mate, you don’t think I didn’t notice?’

Louis chuckled darkly.

‘Nialler, if anything, I _didn’t_ get lucky because of you.’

‘What, why?’

Louis waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Don’t wanna talk about it here.’

Niall hummed, agreeing reluctantly that this might not be the place or the time for this conversation.

‘Though, if you ever need… _stuff_ , you know I brought some and you know where to find it.’

‘I _definitely_ don’t wanna talk about _that_ here,’ Louis snapped, although he could feel a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Niall giggled. ‘Fine, fine.’ He followed it up with a short groan and a hand at his temple, while coach Gunn made them slow down and stop jogging altogether.

‘Let’s never drink again,’ Niall groaned at Louis as they lowered themselves onto the ground for push ups.

*

When Louis, Liam, and Niall returned to their cabin after the training, Harry wasn’t there. Checking the schedules Liam had stuck on the fridge Louis saw the staff were having a lunch meeting, which meant Harry probably wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours. Louis was a little relieved he could postpone the inevitable. Talking to Harry was going to be awkward, to say the least.

The three of them, as well as the rest of the squad, had an afternoon off. Considering the fact that most of them were still trying to get over their hangovers, this was a blessing. Louis got himself a big glass of ice cold water and plonked down on the sofa, sipping his drink in silence and staring into space, willing his headache to subside.

‘So, do you wanna talk about it in here?’ Niall said, flopping down next to Louis, almost making him spill his water.

Louis didn’t miss Liam looking up from the tablet he was scrolling away on in one of the comfy chairs.

‘Not particularly.’

‘Louis, come o-o-on,’ Niall whined, putting his head into Louis’ lap. ‘I want to know all the juicy details.’

‘I don’t owe you any _juicy details_ ,’ Louis said, trying to do air quotes with one hand.

‘What’s this about?’ Liam piped up, putting away his tablet.

‘Louis has a crush,’ Niall said, before Louis had the chance to shut down this conversation immediately. Once Liam got involved, he knew he was done.

‘ _I do not_.’ He sighed loudly, forcing himself to stop getting defensive. ‘Niall thinks I slept with Harry last night. Which I didn’t.’ He was quiet for a second, but couldn’t resist adding, ‘We just made out a little.’

Niall whooped. ‘I _knew_ it!’

‘ _Look_ ,’ Louis said pointedly, ‘we made out, he made some weird little speech about not wanting to fuck things up, Niall barged in, I went off to do some karaoke. End of story.’

‘Fuck things up?’ Liam sounded suspicious.

Louis threw his hands up.

‘ _I don’t know either._ The kid’s weird.’

‘So do you have a crush on him?’ Liam asked, one hundred percent serious.

Louis blinked.

‘Um. No?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Liam, I’ve only seen him like three times. I don’t know him.’

Liam sighed, making a way bigger deal out of the whole thing than Louis ever imagined. Why was he being so difficult? So they’d made out. People do that sometimes. Okay, so they hadn’t spoken to each other after getting caught by Niall, and it might get slightly awkward when they do, but that was it, right? No harm, no foul?

‘Lads, come on, let’s please just focus on the tournament, okay?’ Liam sighed. ‘I think Harry’s got the right idea here about not wanting to fuck things up.’

He went back to his tablet. Niall muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘spoilsport’. Louis finished his water. Talking about what had happened between Harry and him had confused him even more, but he knew what he needed to do. He got up, fished his phone out of his pocket, and went into his own bedroom.

Closing the door behind him, he dialled the number and flopped down onto his bed, legs spread wide and free arm stretched out away from himself.

_‘Lou?’_

‘Zaynnnnnnn,’ Louis whined, so glad to hear his best friend’s voice.

_‘Louis, what’s up? How’s France?’_

‘Zayn, there’s a _boy_.’

_‘Of course there is,’_ Zayn sighed, but Louis could hear the fond grin in his voice. _‘What’s his name?’_

‘Harry.’

A second of silence. _‘That doesn’t sound particularly French.’_

‘That’s because he’s not.’

_‘Don’t tell me he came along with the squad.’_

‘Yyyyyep.’

_‘Oh, Louis.’_

‘I know. Now be a good friend and tell me what to do about this.’

*

Talking to Zayn had made Louis feel better. He still hadn’t talked to Harry, but at least Zayn’s soothing voice had calmed most of Louis’ anxieties, and he felt positive he and Harry would be able to have a good talk and figure out what this thing was.

Despite Louis’ good intentions, though, it turned out that their quiet first day in France seemed to be the only quiet day they were going to have for the duration of the tournament. Louis saw Harry in passing, saw him eat with McPherson and the other staff members at dinner, saw him rush about in their cabin dropping off stuff and picking up other stuff, but getting him to stop so they could sit down and talk seemed impossible. His own schedule wasn’t any less busy – he was dragged from training sessions to squad meetings, and he felt like he hardly had time to breathe.

Which was how he ended up back on McPherson’s table. He’d been in a particularly stressed-out mood and had foregone most of his stretching before they’d done some HIIT training, doing bits of jogging interspersed with short bursts of high-energy sprinting. Trying to go into his first sprint, his hamstring had twinged so painfully it had actually made him give a startled shout, and Gunn had marched him off the pitch and into McPherson’s cabin in an instant, telling him to stay put while he went off to get the physical therapist.

Louis looked up when the door opened, and McPherson walked in, Harry trailing in after him, closing the door. Louis wanted to scream. Of course Harry was there. And of _course_ , they hadn’t talked yet.

‘Louis,’ McPherson said, shaking his hand. ‘Coach Gunn told me in no uncertain terms I had to make sure you didn’t break yourself, so I’m assuming you did something stupid and that I should take a look at your hamstring?’

He didn’t even wait for Louis to nod grimly before putting his hands on Louis’ thigh.

‘Should’ve warmed up,’ Louis muttered helplessly. ‘It’s nothing.’

McPherson hummed while he felt his way around Louis’ thigh. Louis didn’t trust himself enough to look up at Harry.

‘Right,’ McPherson said, rubbing his hands together. ‘The fact that you were able to sit through that without wincing is a good sign. I think you dodged a bullet there, but Louis, _really_ , watch yourself, right?’

Louis nodded again, eager to get up off the table and out of the room, but McPherson put a hand to the small of his back when Louis started to move.

‘Doesn’t mean we’re gonna let a perfect teaching opportunity go to waste, lad. Harry, get your arse over here.’

Louis heard Harry get closer to the table.

‘Remember that deep tissue massage technique we talked about yesterday?’ McPherson asked, and Louis didn’t hear Harry reply, so he assumed he’d nodded. He hated that he couldn’t see Harry’s face right now, even though he wasn’t sure he could even handle it. This was spiralling out of control. They needed to _talk_ , especially if Harry was going to put his hands on him. Louis wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to deal with Harry massaging his thigh. Of course, he wasn’t going to _object_ , necessarily, but McPherson was right _there_ , and Louis had Harry’s little speech still playing over and over in his head.

McPherson was still instructing Harry.

‘Start at the back of the knee and work your way up to the glute.’

Louis suppressed a shuddering sigh when Harry’s fingers slid onto his knee. _If you let me touch you again, like, now, here, I’m a little scared I’m never gonna want to stop._ Louis buried his face in his arms, pretty sure his cheeks had gone a particularly obvious shade of red. Harry had started to rub tight, hard little circles into his muscles, making his way up Louis’ thigh slowly. _And that’s probably, like, not very helpful. For either of us. Right now._ If there was anything that wasn’t helpful right now it was the way that Harry was using his hands to rub long stripes up Louis’ leg, getting way too close for comfort.

Louis felt like he was on fire, and he was absolutely sure Harry could feel the way his skin had heated up. Under McPherson’s studying gaze they couldn’t say anything and it was eating Louis alive. He tried to focus on anything but Harry’s hands – he bit his own wrist so hard he thought he might’ve drawn blood, he tried to think of the saddest and most horrifying things to force the intense arousal that was clouding him away from the edges of his mind, but nothing worked. Harry was there, he was touching him, and Louis wanted _more_.

By the time Harry finished up, Louis was painfully hard.

‘You can sit up now,’ Harry’s voice came, soft and low. Louis nodded, but stayed right where he was.

‘Good job, Harry, excellent technique. You alright there, Louis?’ McPherson asked.

‘Sure,’ Louis croaked. ‘Just give me a minute. Almost fell asleep there.’ He knew he didn’t sound convincing at all, but he just wanted McPherson and Harry to leave so he could get his shit together.

‘Take your time,’ McPherson said, ‘there’s some water on the table behind you. We need to get going, but stay here as long as you like. And for the love of God, Louis, _warm up_ next time.’

‘Absolutely, yes, thank you,’ Louis rushed out.

He heard the door open and close, and he was finally alone.

‘ _Shit_ ,’ he breathed out.

*

Spending a ridiculously long time in the sauna after the massage incident had been the best decision Louis had made all day. He’d had the sauna to himself, and when he stumbled out of it he felt sufficiently sweated out, his mind deliciously blank.

The cabin was quiet when he entered – Niall was napping on the sofa and Liam was whipping up something healthy for dinner in the kitchen. No Harry in sight. Louis greeted Liam softly.

‘Dinner in thirty,’ Liam said, stirring the contents of a pot with a wooden spoon. He looked Louis up and down. ‘You okay?’

Louis waved his concerns away. ‘Fine. Had a massage. Went to the sauna. Gonna take a shower.’

Stringing together words felt like a chore. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Liam clapped him on the shoulder and Louis trudged off to the bathroom.

The lukewarm shower got him out of his sauna-induced trance enough to make him wonder when he would see Harry again, and when they could finally have that talk. That question was answered a little bit sooner than expected, as he almost bumped into Harry for the second time in the span of a week when he exited the bathroom.

‘Oops,’ Harry breathed, stopping in his tracks.

‘Hi,’ Louis said lamely. ‘Um.’ He was still towelling his hair dry.

‘Hi.’

Louis made up his mind. ‘My room. Now.’

He wanted to push past Harry to lead the way, but the confusion on Harry’s face made him stop.

‘Um,’ Harry mumbled, and Louis rolled his eyes.

‘I want to _talk_.’

Harry’s expression brightened up considerably at that, and they made their way to Louis’ room together. Louis closed the door, threw his wet towel over a chair, and sat down on the edge of his bed. Harry hovered at the end of Louis’ bed awkwardly, looking like he was trying to decide whether he was going to sit down or not.

‘So,’ Louis started, looking at his hands. He’d been so focused on trying to find a moment to talk to Harry that he’d sort of forgotten what it was he wanted to say to him.

‘So,’ Harry echoed, finally sitting down on the bed as well, keeping a respectable distance between them.

‘We made out.’ Louis decided to just state the obvious.

‘That we did.’

‘And then you said you didn’t want to touch me. And now I’m confused.’

Harry sighed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and when Louis looked up he saw Harry did look like he was genuinely sorry. ‘It’s just, like, you’re fit, right?’

‘Thanks?’

‘But I’m supposed to be able to touch you, like, professionally, without it getting… awkward.’

‘Right,’ Louis breathed.

‘So,’ Harry continued, ‘if we start touching each other… _non-professionally -_ ’ Louis snorted softly, ‘- I’m not sure if I could. Not make it awkward, I mean.’

Louis nodded slowly. ‘We wouldn’t want things to get awkward.’

‘Exactly.’

Louis wasn’t sure if this conversation was clearing things up or just muddying the waters even further. He shifted around on the bed a little bit, before looking up at Harry.

‘Right, so, let me get this straight.’ Harry looked up at him and for a second Louis lost his train of thought because _holy shit Harry’s eyes were so green_.

‘Yeah?’ Harry prompted, staring at him expectantly.

‘Right,’ Louis started again, ‘so, okay, we don’t want things to get awkward. But I think it’s pretty clear there’s some sort of… attraction here.’ Louis rolled his eyes at the way he sounded like a walking rom-com cliché. Harry just eagerly nodded in agreement, though, so maybe he hadn’t sounded _that_ bad. ‘Maybe we can come to some kind of agreement for now? Like, no more non-professional touching until the tournament is over?’

Harry seemed to deflate a little at that, before nodding his head. ‘Alright.’ A short silence. ‘Although… Can we make one exception?’

‘What?’

‘Well…’ Harry paused, and Louis realised Harry was blushing a little. It was positively adorable. Louis waited patiently. ‘Seeing as we already, like, made out...’

‘You’re right,’ Louis mused, ‘it definitely wouldn’t make sense to stop doing that.’ He knew he was staring at Harry’s lips, and he knew Harry would probably notice, but Louis found that he didn’t really care. ‘So, to recap, kissing is a yes, touching is a no.’

Harry looked up and grinned at him. ‘Sounds like a great plan to me.’ He kept staring at Louis, and Louis stared back, wondering if it would be okay to start kissing him right then and there. ‘Can we also do… other things, though?’ Harry asked, before Louis could make up his mind.

‘Other things?’ Louis asked, tilting his head.

‘Like, I maybe kind of want to get to know you. As a person.’

Louis smiled at that.

‘Right back at you.’

‘Good,’ Harry grinned, and he looked so relieved Louis was done trying to make up his mind, so he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry’s.

‘We’re doing a great job at this not making it awkward thing,’ Louis murmured against Harry’s mouth.

‘Yep. Go us,’ Harry answered, his voice low, right before he opened his mouth to let Louis’ tongue in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is football in this chapter! ACTUAL FOOTBALL! Also, Louis and Harry do Things together. Yep.

So that no touching thing had been a ridiculous idea. Louis kind of wanted to hit his past self for even _suggesting_ such a moronic thing. The desire to do unspeakable things to Harry simply seemed to increase whenever Louis spent even a little time with him, and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it except for having solitary wanks in the shower was driving him insane.

It was a good thing the upcoming game against Belgium was there to distract him. Coach Gunn was being very strict with them, trying to get them into top physical and mental shape to make sure they would win the first game in the group stage. Belgium wasn’t supposed to be the toughest opponent, but Gunn told them repeatedly to not underestimate the Red Devils.

The night before their first game Louis felt jittery, unable to sit still. He’d been puttering around in the kitchen after dinner, washing dishes and aimlessly looking through various cupboards. He’d considered going to bed early like Niall and Liam had done about half an hour ago, but he was pretty sure the frustration of trying to fall asleep while he really wouldn’t be able to would only make things worse. He was just pondering whether or not to go take another shower and jerk off in an attempt to calm himself down a little bit when the front door opened and Harry walked in.

‘Hi,’ Harry smiled, seeing Louis sitting on the kitchen counter with his legs crossed, tapping his index finger on the cold marble.

‘Hi,’ Louis replied, grinning automatically at the sight of a slightly dishevelled-looking Harry – his hair was sticking up in odd ways like he’d been running his hand through it repeatedly.

‘Surprised you’re still up,’ Harry muttered, shouldering off his coat. ‘Coach Gunn told me most of the squad goes to bed pretty early on nights before a game.’

Louis shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t be able to sleep right now.’

Harry took a couple of steps in Louis’ direction. ‘Why? Nerves?’

Louis nodded.

‘I didn’t think you’d get nervous,’ Harry said softly, coming to a halt in front of Louis. From his position on the counter, Harry had to look up at Louis the tiniest bit.

Louis nodded at his finger still tapping against the counter. ‘I absolutely do.’

Harry hummed softly, leaning in. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

Louis closed the distance between them by pressing his lips on Harry’s. Harry immediately went soft and pliant, opening his mouth and letting their tongues slide together slowly, languidly.

‘You could give me a massage,’ Louis murmured, after breaking the kiss for a second.

Harry didn’t respond immediately, only going in to kiss Louis again. Louis was pretty sure Harry had decided to not grace the request with a reply, when Harry stopped kissing him and opened his mouth to mutter a single word.

‘Alright.’

Louis pulled back a little to look Harry in the eye.

‘Really?’

Harry shrugged. ‘It’d be touching you professionally, right? Helping you relax before a big game?’

Louis could think of a million reasons why Harry giving him a massage at night when it’s just the two of them wouldn’t particularly count as a professional encounter, but hey, it’s not like he’d turn down something like this. He’s not a _complete_ idiot.

‘Alright,’ Louis breathed, trying to ignore the fact that he was half-hard already, just from kissing Harry.

He jumped down from the counter and marched his way into his own bedroom without looking back, assuming Harry would just follow him there. When he heard the door close behind him, he knew he was right. Harry dumped his bag in the corner and knelt down to retrieve a small bottle of massage oil, whilst Louis took off his shirt unceremoniously and flopped belly-first onto his bed.

‘Um,’ he heard Harry say softly, and Louis turned his head to see Harry standing at the foot of his bed, fidgeting with the small bottle. ‘Could you maybe sit up?’

Louis nodded and did as he was told, realising that Harry would’ve had to straddle him in order to reach his back properly if he was on his stomach. Trying to get rid of _that_ mental image, he focused on Harry sitting down next to him, warming up the massage oil in his hands. That wasn’t particularly helpful either, so Louis cleared his throat and looked away. The nerves he was feeling now definitely didn’t have anything to do with tomorrow’s game anymore.

Harry kicked off his shoes and pulled his legs up so he could sit on his knees on the bed, facing Louis’ back.

‘Are you comfortable?’ Louis heard Harry ask. ‘Not too cold?’

‘Fine,’ Louis replied, even though he was shivering with how close Harry’s mouth was to his ear.

‘Alright,’ Harry rumbled. ‘’M gonna start at your shoulders and work my way down. Try to relax.’

Louis wanted to laugh hysterically. _Try to relax_. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be able to relax ever again. But when Harry put his hands between his shoulder blades and applied _just_ the right amount of pressure in the right spots, he felt the tension flood from his body.

Louis had no idea how long Harry had been massaging him when he felt himself sag backwards a little, his eyelids getting heavy. Harry’s hand came strong in the middle of his back, guiding him down onto his stomach slowly. For a second, Louis was just lying there, and nothing happened, as if Harry was deciding whether he should leave or continue.

‘Don’t stop,’ Louis mumbled into the duvet softly.

‘’M not gonna, don’t worry,’ Harry said, his words slow but deliberate.

Louis felt the mattress sag around him as Harry put his knees at Louis’ sides for better access. He wasn’t straddling him properly, but it was close enough. Louis tried to go back to focusing on Harry’s hands instead of his knees, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Having Harry work his way down from his shoulder blades to the small of his back, his hands on either side of Louis’ spine, should be more than enough, but Louis wanted more. He knew he was being greedy, but could anyone blame him?

When Harry started rubbing circles into the dip of his spine, Louis couldn’t help himself anymore – he needed _friction_. Pressing his hips into the mattress, he couldn’t stop himself from making a small, keening noise. Immediately, he felt Harry go still over him, taking his hands off Louis’ back.

‘Harry,’ Louis whined, his face pressed into the mattress. ‘Harry, _please_.’

‘I can’t, Louis,’ Harry breathed. Louis couldn’t see his face, but he sounded like not touching Louis was the hardest thing for him to do right now. ‘We agreed.’

‘Stupid rules,’ Louis gritted out, rolling his hips again and trying to keep from moaning.

‘Fuck,’ Harry said, and Louis could feel rather than hear him remove himself from Louis’ bed.

‘No, Harry, come on…’ Louis rolled onto his back to see Harry backed up against the far wall, near the door. He would’ve looked ready to bolt, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was palming himself through his trackies.

‘What if,’ Harry groaned, forcing himself to look at Louis, ‘what if we don’t touch each other?’

Louis’ own hand slid inside his pants. ‘I thought we already agreed to that.’

Harry stared at Louis, his eyes almost black. ‘Yeah. But, I mean, what if we don’t touch each other… But we can touch _ourselves_.’

Louis finally realised where Harry was going with this.

‘Fuck, yes, _yes please_ ,’ Louis agreed immediately, starting to stroke himself.

Harry leaned against the wall and shoved down his trousers unceremoniously, revealing that he had been going commando today. Louis couldn’t find it in himself to comment, but he made sure to store away that information for later. As Harry put his hand on himself, he never looked away from Louis. Louis saw rather than heard Harry’s breath hitch and it only made him want to see Harry come undone more.

Louis’ gaze travelled down and lingered on Harry’s dick. He shoved his trousers and pants down just enough for easy access, and adjusted his own pace so his hand was matching Harry’s hypnotising movements.

‘Shit,’ Louis breathed, ‘you’re _gorgeous_.’

That actually made Harry _moan_ and speed up, thumbing over the head of his cock on every upstroke. Louis licked his lips and did the same - that way it was almost as if it was Harry jerking him off, instead of his own hand.

The slide of his hand got easier and Louis realised he was already dripping precome. He wasn’t going to be able to last very long, but, judging by the way he was having trouble holding himself up, neither was Harry.

Harry’s eyes were still on him, and it made Louis want to make this good, make it memorable, make it so incredible for Harry he’d never want anything else ever again. Louis threw his head back and groaned as he gripped himself a little tighter, squeezed a little harder. He could hear Harry’s breath speeding up.

‘Louis,’ Harry panted, ‘Louis, Lou – I’m so close, so close.’

Louis sat up properly and started stroking himself faster, a little rougher, the way he knew he could make himself come hard and fast.

‘Me too,’ he groaned.

Harry’s knees were shaking. Little beads of sweat had started to pearl on his forehead, making his curls stick to his face as he lowered his head, finally breaking eye contact with Louis. Louis had never seen anything quite as beautiful.

Just as Louis felt himself getting close, Harry groaned loudly as he came, spilling all over his hand. He stroked himself through it, slowing down a little but squeezing harder, his groan turning into a needy little whimper. That was it for Louis.

‘Fuck,’ he whined, coming on his stomach and trying not to get anything on the sheets.

When his breathing had gone back to something that felt a little less like he was hyperventilating, he opened his eyes. He looked at Harry, who’s knees had finally given out and who was currently sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall like a ragdoll.

‘That was _so_ much better than jerking off in the shower,’ Louis said, his voice hoarse.

Louis heard Harry chuckle as he got up off the bed to get tissues and a glass of water. He put his pants back on and sat down on the floor next to Harry, handing him some tissues. Louis cleaned himself up, threw away the tissues and gulped down half the glass of water before offering it to Harry, who accepted it eagerly.

‘How are your nerves?’ Harry asked, after finishing the water and putting down the empty glass. His voice sounded even more gravelly than usual and Louis tried not to feel too pleased.

‘What nerves,’ he replied, yawning extensively. Harry snorted softly. They were quiet for a few seconds, but then Harry got up, holding out his hand to help Louis up as well.

‘You should sleep,’ Harry said. ‘Big day tomorrow.’

Louis nodded and smiled at Harry sleepily as he made his way back to the bed.

‘Thanks for helping me relax.’

Harry lingered in the doorway for a second to shoot Louis a dimpled grin.

‘Anytime.’

He closed the door behind him and Louis collapsed on his bed. He was asleep in seconds.

*

Louis’ pre-game nerves were back with a vengeance when he woke up the next morning, and they didn’t disappear until the very second the referee blew the whistle to start off the England – Belgium game. He’d made sure to warm up extensively, in an attempt to make this game as easy on his hamstring as possible, but he was still a little bit worried his body was not going to be happy with him. He’d deal with it after the game, though. For now, they just needed to win.

They started out strong. Coach Gunn had warned them the Belgian team would most likely try to keep their defence as tight as possible, with midfielders and even strikers pulling defending duties. For Belgium, the focus would be more on not letting England score, than on making sure they’d score goals themselves. As things were, it seemed like Gunn had been right – Louis was practically surrounded by Belgian players whenever he got into a good position.

So far though, Louis had managed to get to the ball a couple of times, but all the attempts he made in the first fifteen minutes of the game led to nothing. He’d mostly been working on the right flank, while Sebastian was doing his thing on the left.

Louis could hear Liam directing some of their defending players forward in an attempt to get the team to form a more unified offense. This tactic seemed to work, because Belgium had to shift their players around as well, to make sure every base was covered. Louis saw his chance to break free of his Belgian shadow, just as Liam passed the ball expertly to the right corner of the pitch.

Louis ran, determined to reach the ball and use this opportunity to make a difference. He managed to keep the ball from going out, and scanned his surroundings for an opening.

He saw one. He ran. He could vaguely hear Sebastian shouting something at him, but Louis wasn’t listening – there was an opening and he was going to use it.

He took the shot.

He scored.

The crowd went crazy and Louis could hear a booming voice announce his name and the fact that England were now leading 1 – 0, but as soon as his teammates found him, Louis ignored everything else that was happening in the huge stadium. Liam ruffled his hair, and Max’s arm was around his waist.

‘Nice one, Tommo,’ Liam shouted, punching him in the shoulder before running off, back to his own familiar spot. Louis grinned at his teammates, high-fiving them in passing as he ran back to their half of the pitch. He looked over to their goal to see Niall jumping around and fistpumping the air, and Louis sent a thumbs up and a wide smile his way. The last thing Louis allowed himself to do before he went back into football focus mode was throwing a glance towards the crew at the side of the pitch.

Coach Gunn was grinning at him, still clapping, even though most of the crowd had already stopped. And there were McPherson and Harry, both smiling wide. Harry put his thumbs up. Louis winked at him, and he could’ve sworn Harry blushed.

Reality grounded Louis soon enough after that, as Sebastian came over from his side of the pitch.

‘What are you doing?’ Louis shouted at him, trying to keep an eye on the ball.

‘Why didn’t you pass it to me? I was completely open!’

‘I scored, didn’t I?’ Louis really didn’t want to do this now.

‘Only just!’

‘D’you _really_ think now’s the time?’

Louis sprinted away, trying to steer clear of any Belgian players and keep himself available for Liam’s passes. He thought he could hear Sebastian swear at him before he ran back to his side of the pitch, but Louis couldn’t care less right now.

Things went south as soon as Sebastian managed to take possession. In his eagerness to get to the goal, he got sloppy and lost the ball to a Belgian midfielder. Chasing after his opponent, Sebastian then decided it would be a brilliant idea to violently tackle the guy. It wasn’t pretty.

Louis swore when the referee blew his whistle. He swore even louder when he pointed at the white dot in front of Niall’s goal.

‘You’re fucking _kidding_!’ Louis shouted, running back towards their side of the pitch. It was a good thing the ref couldn’t hear him.

Three Belgian players, as well as Sebastian, Liam, and the referee, were still standing around Sebastian’s Belgian victim. His teammates helped him up and he seemed miraculously alright, if a bit shaken and a lot annoyed. Louis couldn’t blame him. Sebastian got a yellow card for his stunt, but what really mattered now was the awarded penalty.

Liam had made his way over to Niall as soon as he’d been sure the Belgian player was okay, and the two of them were now conversing animatedly about how to deal with the situation. Of course, Niall knew how to handle a penalty, he’d done them a million times in training, but this was different. This _mattered_. Even from where he was standing, Louis could see Niall was so nervous he had trouble keeping his gloved hands steady.

The referee blew his whistle again and Liam ran back to Louis and the rest of the squad, while one of the Belgian players stepped up in front of the goal, flexing his fingers and jumping up and down on the spot a couple of times. The entire stadium went quiet, waiting for the referee to blow his whistle for a third time.

Shot taken.

Niall missed.

The ball went in the upper left corner, while Niall dove to the right, landing on his side, staring after the ball. He got up slowly, and Louis could see his mouth moving. Even though he couldn’t hear him from where he was standing, he was pretty sure Niall wasn’t particularly happy right now. Neither was Louis, but he didn’t blame Niall – he blamed Sebastian and his idiotic tackling antics. They were going to have words during halftime. Louis glanced to the side of the pitch again and seeing coach Gunn’s face made him believe he wasn’t the only one who wanted to confront Sebastian about his behaviour.

The ten minutes up to the halftime whistle were torture, and Louis was off the pitch immediately when the referee finally announced the first half was over.

It turned out everybody was angry at Sebastian, including Sebastian. Coach Gunn managed to turn the sour atmosphere around a little bit by reminding them that Louis had already managed to score once, so it was absolutely possible for them to score again, if they worked together properly. Louis and Sebastian shook hands and soon enough it was time to get ready to go back out on the pitch again.

On his way back up, Harry took Louis aside for a second.

‘How’s the hamstring?’ Harry’s voice murmured low in his ear.

Louis looked up at Harry and caught the mischievous glint in his eye.

‘If this is just a roundabout way of asking if you can come massage me later, you’re not being very subtle about it.’

Harry put on his best indignant face, before his features softened into something Louis decided could only be described as tender. He really didn’t want to think about that for too long.

‘I mean it though. Are you okay? You did some pretty serious sprinting out there just now.’

‘I’m fine. Don’t worry,’ Louis reassured him, grinning up at him. ‘I _could_ probably do with a massage later though.’

When he ran up the last flight of stairs up to the pitch, Louis could still hear Harry laughing.

*

They won. The second half was a torturous affair, with lots of little fouls that weren’t serious enough to get carded, but took up more time than they should. Luckily, right before the game was supposed to end, Sebastian managed to redeem himself by scoring them the winning goal. By the time the ref signalled the end of the match, Louis wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

It wasn’t to be, though. Coach Gunn thankfully kept the post-game talk very brief, just asked them to come to the training a little earlier tomorrow. Louis took a quick shower, changed into his tracksuit and went outside to face some reporters. He answered a couple of in-depth questions about the game, realised the journalists were focusing on details he himself hadn’t even picked up on, and kept his answers deliberately short and vague. The press left him alone soon enough, especially when coach Gunn appeared, and Louis made his escape.

He quickly found the tour bus that was taking them back to the resort. It was only a thirty-minute drive back, but Louis fully intended to sleep on the bus. He found a quiet spot in the back, stuffed his bag in the overhead compartment, dropped into his seat and folded in on himself.

When he woke up, there was someone leaning into his side. Also, the bus was moving. Louis had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but it couldn’t’ve been longer than fifteen minutes. Blinking to clear his view, he realised Harry was curled into his side. Around them, all the other players and crew were either dozing off or listening to music on their headphones.

Louis had no idea why Harry had thought it’d be a good idea to sit down next to him on the bus, especially since he was the one who had been adamant about the whole no touching thing – Louis had assumed cuddling of any kind was part of the rule. He wasn’t going to complain about it, though, not when it meant he’d be treated to the sight of a sleeping Harry, burrowed into a dark red hoodie.

Apparently Harry had some kind of sixth sense when it came to Louis, because after about ten seconds of Louis staring at him, he blinked and opened his eyes.

‘Hi,’ he muttered, his voice low. ‘You were asleep when I got on the bus. So. I thought I’d join you.’

‘Naturally,’ Louis breathed.

‘You still want that massage when we get back?’

‘Honestly, I just want my bed right now.’

Harry hummed. ‘’S fine. We can save it for later.’

Louis fought the urge to put his hand in Harry’s hair. He looked so small and vulnerable right now. Louis wanted to take care of _him_ for a change.

‘Thanks,’ Louis said softly.

They were quiet the rest of the drive.

When they arrived at the resort, they bundled out of the bus, rumpled and exhausted, too tired to talk. Liam opened the door to their cabin and the four of them quickly said their good nights before trudging off to their respective bedrooms. Harry threw Louis a smile before he closed the door behind him, but Louis thought he detected a hint of sadness in his eyes. As he got ready for bed, he tried to shake the feeling he’d done something wrong. It was probably the exhaustion talking. Everything would be clearer in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I sure did writing it! My heartfelt apologies to all footie fans if I got anything glaringly wrong in my description of the game. Please don't hesitate to send me a message if I did - I'm one of those people who only watches football when my national team is playing.
> 
> In other news, I'm gonna be doing NaNoWriMo this month, and while I'm absolutely going to try to update regularly the chapters might be a little shorter the next couple of weeks. Sorry in advance!
> 
> If you want to follow me on Tumblr, my url is powerflouncing.  
> If you want to follow me on Twitter, my handle is panthouse.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically just Louis being an idiot and the other three looking after him for a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guuuuuys I'm so sorry for being absent for more than a month, life was getting a little bit intense over here. This is a tiny-ass chapter and I wish I could make up for my absence with something more substantial, but I promise more is coming - I'm definitely still working on this fic (it's one of the biggest things I've writting in a long time!).
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

The next morning didn’t particularly bring Louis any solace, as he didn’t see Harry before he had to leave with Liam and Niall for their ridiculously early practice. Louis was silently cursing coach Gunn for making them come in earlier than planned, and his curses got a little less silent when, as they were warming up, Gunn announced they were going to be doing penalty training today. Louis heard Niall groan next to him while they were stretching out their thighs.

‘Can I go back to bed,’ Niall groaned, bending back out of his forward stretch and flopping down on his back. ‘This feels like punishment.’

Louis switched his legs around, starting on his right leg. ‘I know, mate,’ he sighed, sympathetic. Niall hadn’t said as much but Louis knew he felt horrible about missing the penalty in the game against Belgium. ‘Hey,’ he said, overly brightly as he sat up, ‘at least it’s not suicide drills.’

Niall nodded a little, not looking overly convinced.

Penalty training ended up _feeling_ like suicide drills – Louis’ body was protesting against the amount of physical activity he was undertaking a day after a serious match. Even though he warmed up thoroughly, once every few steps he could feel his hamstring acting up. It didn’t hurt, per se, but he knew it wasn’t good, either.

While Louis got more and more annoyed with himself and his body, Niall seemed to flourish. He stopped more penalties than he didn’t, and Louis could see his confidence return in the way his eyes had lit up. Louis silently thanked coach Gunn. Maybe penalty training wasn’t _that_ bad an idea, after all.

Still, when they were finally told they could go back to their cabins and enjoy the rest of their day, Louis didn’t feel particularly accomplished – in fact, he felt worse going off the pitch than he’d felt going on that morning. Louis knew they had a week to recover from their last game and prepare for the next one, which would be against Denmark. Still, if his body kept this up, he wasn’t sure if he could perform to the utmost of his abilities.

As soon as they got back, Louis paced around the house, feeling restless. Even though he was exhausted, he felt like he couldn’t justify sitting around doing nothing. So, after spending a few minutes fruitlessly looking for Harry, Louis decided to head back out. He hadn’t changed out of his training kit yet. He walked back to the pitch and started another warmup, doing laps and stretching out his arms as he went.

Louis decided to test his sprinting abilities, to see how his hamstring would cope. He went back and forth across the empty pitch, alternating between jogging at a leisurely pace and short bursts of sprinting, trying to find the exact moment where it started to hurt. Louis felt like if he knew exactly where his limits were, he could be in control of the situation again, even if it wasn’t ideal right now.

The problem was, it seemed like his limits weren’t set in stone. One minute, he went into a sprint and everything was fine, Louis flying across the pitch effortlessly. Then, a minute later, he tried again and he almost fell over because his muscles started protesting so violently he wasn’t sure he could keep himself upright at all. It was unbearably frustrating, not being able to trust his muscles. Louis didn’t believe in many things, but the one thing that had never let him down was his own body.

Louis decided the best thing he could do right now was train as much as possible, to try and find an anchor point, something he _could_ trust about his body, something he could hold on to in the middle of a game.

So that’s what he did. For the entire week leading up to their next game in the group stage against Denmark, Louis was on the pitch every waking minute. Coach Gunn increased the amount of training sessions leading up to the next game, but even when they had rest days or afternoons off, Louis would be right there, running and stretching and getting himself familiar with his current situation.

Spending so much time on the pitch meant Louis didn’t see much of Liam, Niall, and Harry. At some point, Liam told Louis to be careful, and his eyes were so earnest Louis almost started feeling guilty. Niall complained he didn’t get to see him as much anymore, until Louis reminded him of the fact that they were training side by side basically every day.

And Harry… Louis hadn’t seen Harry since the night after their game against Belgium. If it wasn’t for the wet towels in the bathroom and the long curly hairs Louis found in the sink, he would’ve thought Harry had moved into another cabin just to avoid Louis. Louis knew he had to talk to Harry and figure out what was going on, but to be honest, he wasn’t sure what to say. Immersing himself in training and focusing on the games ahead was a great way to not have to think about the whole Harry situation.

The Denmark game proved an easy win, Denmark’s meagre defences no match for coach Gunn’s team, even if Louis hung back a little and let Max and Sebastian do the heavy lifting. He could feel Gunn’s eyes on him after the ref blew his whistle, but they won, and Louis was relieved. A win against Denmark meant they were pretty much set to get into the round of 16.

In their final game in the group stage a few days later, England _decimated_ Monaco with a 8-0 win. Even sparing himself and keeping to his own little area of the field, Louis managed to score three of England’s goals. Having secured themselves a place in the next round, Gunn announced both the squad and the crew would be able to enjoy three consecutive days off. The dressing room turned into a sweaty, chaotic group hug as the entire squad piled on top of him in celebration.

Louis allowed himself to sleep in on their first day off, crawling out of bed stiffly around ten. As he pulled on his tracksuit, Louis noticed the cabin was still eerily quiet, which probably meant the others were treating themselves to as much sleep as they needed as well. Louis headed out onto the deserted football pitch and started his regular warmup routine.

Louis had managed to keep Harry out of his thoughts throughout the days surrounding the two games, and was determined to not let himself get distracted by him now that they had some time off. He hadn’t seen him around much anyway, so ignoring the fact that there was a curly-haired lanky intern with ridiculously talented hands and a gorgeous cock out there had been relatively easy.

Having him stare at Louis while he was training by himself made ignoring him a little harder, though.

Louis jogged over to the side of the pitch where Harry was standing and stopped right in front of him, stretching out his quads.

‘Hi,’ Harry said, raking a hand through his wind-blown locks.

‘Hi yourself,’ Louis replied, switching legs. ‘What’s up?’

Looking at Harry, Louis realised he looked a little off. Like something was bothering him. Louis stopped stretching, shaking out his legs one at a time.

‘Um. Not much. I was – wondering, could you maybe come back to the cabin with me?’

Louis looked up at Harry. ‘Why?’

‘Just, come. Please.’

An uncomfortable sense of unease starts building in Louis’ stomach, and he abandoned his stretching altogether after nodding at Harry and following him back towards the cabins. Harry opened the door to the cabin and suddenly Louis is facing Niall and Liam, looking as serious as ever, hands clasped in front of them. Harry closed the door and goes to stand next to them, looking a little anxious and a lot uncomfortable.

Louis frowned.

‘Did someone die?’

Liam unclasped his hands to gesture at the three of them in front of Louis.

‘Louis, this is an intervention.’

It isn’t Louis’ fault this statement made him bark out a laugh that startled the other three so much Harry almost fell over, because, honestly? That’s the most ridiculous thing that has ever come out of anyone’s mouth, ever.

‘Are you _serious_ right now?’ Louis managed to wheeze out, doubled over and leaning against the wall. When he looked up, Liam was frowning at him, Niall just looked confused, and Harry’s eyes were darting between Louis, Liam and Niall, seemingly unable to decide who to focus on.

‘One hundred percent,’ Liam said, his tone unwavering. It was a little sobering and Louis managed to stop giggling. The situation was just too ridiculous. ‘Louis, we haven’t seen you in weeks, you’ve been on the pitch non-stop, and if you keep going like this you’re gonna make things so much worse for yourself.’

Louis stared at Liam. ‘This is an _actual_ intervention.’

Three heads nodded at him in unison. Louis sighed. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

‘Fine. I’ll take a day off.’ He walked past the three others and flopped down on the sofa. ‘See? I’m sitting down. Everybody happy now?’

Liam walked over and hauled Louis off the sofa with embarrassing ease.

‘Not yet. Go get dressed.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo I promise next chapter will have 100% more smut and 100% more substance. I PROMISE! 
> 
> See you soon!
> 
> In the meantime, comments give me life, and if you want, you can find me on tumblr (powerflouncing) and twitter (panthouse).


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lads spend their day off in Lyon. No football, some tourist-y shenanigans, semi-serious talking happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS. I realise I said this when I posted the previous chapter as well, but I'M SO SORRY for being gone for a while. I have been absolutely swamped at work, Things have been happening, and I couldn't find the energy in me to get words onto the paper. However, I hope posting this (rather long) chapter ends my slump and I'll be able to supply you wonderful people once again with a new chapter every two weeks.

Lyon turned out to have more than enough to offer to distract Louis from any worries about his physical health for a day. Parking their rented car just outside the city and taking the metro into the centre, the foursome ended up hopping in and out of churches after Niall vetoed a visit to the puppet museum (“Being scared of dolls is perfectly normal!”). Strolling around the Basilique de Fourvière, Louis couldn’t stop looking up at the intricate mosaics. Walking around and looking up meant it was only a matter of time something would go wrong, and sure enough Louis bumped into something solid within minutes.

‘Are you making a habit of bumping into me?’ a soft drawl came, and Louis was confronted with a pair of eyes so green he actually felt a little bit breathless.

Harry steadied himself on Louis’ shoulders and let his hands linger for a few seconds longer than necessary.

‘Hi,’ Louis muttered under his breath. They still hadn’t talked properly, even after Harry came to pluck Louis off the pitch that morning. ‘Uh. Sorry.’

‘’S okay.’

‘Impressive, huh?’ Louis nodded at the ceiling lamely. It really was, but there were a billion other things he wanted to talk to Harry about and a big church in the middle of a French city wasn’t one of them.

‘Incredible,’ Harry breathed, looking up again, veins straining against his neck. Not that Louis was looking, of course. ‘Did you know they originally built it in honour of the Virgin Mary for saving Lyon from the plague?’

Louis stared at Harry and didn’t reply, and Harry looked back down at him. ‘What?’

‘Only you would know that,’ Louis muttered, shaking his head.

‘ _What?_ I just pulled up the Wikipedia article when we were in the car on the way here!’

Harry was frowning and sounded indignant but Louis could see the beginnings of a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

‘Alright, thank you for that vital piece of trivia, Harold,’ Louis said, brushing past him and towards the exit.

Harry followed him out to the square where Liam and Niall were already waiting for them, Liam snapping some pictures of the outside of the Basilica. Niall was giving Louis a look that made Louis want to tell him to shut up.

‘Alright lads,’ Liam piped up after taking a ridiculous amount of pictures of the front of the Basilica. ‘Time for a selfie!’

The other three looked on in amazement as Liam actually took a selfie stick out of his backpack. Noticing the other three staring at him, he shrugged.

‘I come prepared. Now, get your arses over here. I wanna try and get the view in there as well.’

Liam stuck his phone on the selfie stick and placed himself in between Louis and Niall. Harry was standing next to Louis, and Louis tried not to make a big deal out of it.

‘Harry, get in closer, you’re too tall,’ Liam complained, trying to manoeuver the phone in such a way that the picture would include all four of their faces.

Harry obeyed, plastering himself against Louis’ back, crouching down a little to bring his face at Louis’ level. Louis could feel Harry’s cheek against his, stubble against stubble. Harry hummed softly, and Louis tried not to shiver.

‘Almost got it,’ Liam said, trying to get them into focus. ‘Louis, Harry, get in a little closer. That’s it. Now, everybody say cheese!’

Louis and Niall did as they were told, but Harry let out a drawn-out ‘fromaaaaaaaage’ as the camera on Liam’s phone clicked. The four of them parted, giggling at Harry. Liam seemed pleased with the result.

‘That’s going on Instagram!’

Louis knew he was staring at Harry more than was socially accepted, but he just couldn’t help himself – Harry was _right there_ , being curly and funny and generally pleasant to be around. Also, maybe Louis pressed his arse back into Harry’s crotch a little bit when they were posing for the photo, and maybe Harry’s cheeks had gone a little red.

Liam finished uploading the picture soon enough, and Louis snapped out of his Harry-fuelled trance when Niall suggested they go into town to find something to eat. As they walked back down to the city centre, Louis ended up next to Liam, Niall and Harry a little bit ahead of them, and out of earshot. Harry was talking animatedly, gesticulating wildly, making Niall laugh so hard he almost walked into a lamppost.

Louis snorted loudly and shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans. Liam nudged him with his shoulder.

‘So,’ he started, a knowing smile on his face.

Louis frowned.

‘So?’

‘Remember when you said you didn’t have a crush?’

‘Ugh – you’ve known me long enough not to believe me when I deny shit like that.’

‘I do. And I also know you’re pretty far gone for this kid.’

Louis didn’t even try to deny it.

‘But,’ Liam continued, ‘I was also serious back during our conversation.’

‘About what?’

‘About not fucking things up. We’re here for a reason, Louis. Don’t forget it.’

Louis looked up. Liam never called him by his actual name. The look on his face made Louis’ frown deepen. Why did his ridiculous crush on Harry bother Liam so much?

‘I _know_ we’re here for a reason. I’m here to make England win that championship.’

Liam looked at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘I know you are, Tommo. Just making sure we’re all on the same page here.’

Louis nodded, looking away again. ‘We are.’

‘And I’m not just talking about Harry,’ Liam continued. He stopped walking, and Louis only realised it after a few seconds, when he found himself looking to the side and Liam wasn’t there anymore. He walked back towards Liam, who was looking at him with an earnestness that didn’t sit very well with Louis.

‘Just say it,’ Louis managed to grit out, not meeting Liam’s eyes.

Liam rested a hand on Louis’ shoulder.

‘I know you’re clever enough. I don’t have to keep saying it. But please, _please_ look after yourself.’

Louis nodded, still not looking up. He’d managed to not think about his stupid hamstring for a little while, but with a few words from Liam his doubts and worries all came rushing back. His hand was shaking and he waved it a little to make it stop.

‘Hey,’ Liam said, voice soft, gripping his shoulder a little tighter. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine. I’ve seen you fight a lot harder over things that were a lot less important.’

Louis looked up and managed a grin. ‘Yeah. You have.’

Liam started walking again, slinging his arm over Louis’ shoulder and pulling him along.

‘Just don’t shut us out, okay?’ he continued as they made their way down the hill, at the foot of which Harry and Niall seemed to be debating whether they should go right or left. They arrived just as Niall was making a convincing case for turning left by arguing that it smelled like pizza that way, while Harry had pulled up a map on his phone that apparently said there was a great sushi place just around the corner to the right.

‘Okay,’ Louis muttered softly, before breaking free from Liam’s one-armed embrace, grabbing Harry’s arm and pulling him along to the left.

‘Heeeeeeey,’ Harry’s indignant reply came as Louis marched them down the street. Niall whooped somewhere behind them.

‘Seriously, _Harold_ , who picks sushi over pizza?’ Louis said, before easing his pace and walking next to Harry. He looked at him, and found that Harry was already staring at him. ‘You have a lot to learn.’

Louis grinned as he opened the door to the Italian restaurant.

*

Louis wasn’t sure if Harry was honestly a little bit disappointed they’d ended up at the pizza place instead of the Japanese restaurant, but even though his dimples showed every time he smiled, it didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes.

Louis being Louis he did his best to cheer Harry up, but when even his famous impression of coach Gunn didn’t really work, he decided to give up. For now.

The foursome paid for their pizzas and stepped out of the restaurant, Niall pulling a crumpled up map of Lyon out of his jeans to try and figure out what tourist attractions were close by. Louis hooked his chin over Niall’s shoulder to take a look at the map as well.

‘Do any of you get seasick?’ Niall asked, studying his map closely.

Louis frowned. ‘You do realise you’re looking at a map of Lyon, right? Not Venice? We’re in France, Nialler, not Italy – voules-vouz coucher – _ouch_.’

Niall had hit Louis in the upper arm with the map.

‘Shut it. I was thinking we could take the metro down to Perrache and then walk to the river and go on a boat tour.’

Louis considered this for a second, then slapped Niall right back.

‘Solid plan. Fellas?’

Liam and Harry had been standing together to the side while Louis and Niall had been focused on finding them something fun to do next. They were engaged in quiet conversation when Louis called them, and Harry’s head snapped up. Liam grinned at him for some weird reason, and Harry’s cheeks coloured a little. Louis was itching to know what they’d been talking about, but he promised himself he wouldn’t pry.

Liam sauntered over and grabbed the map Niall was trying (and failing) to fold back up. In a smooth range of motions Liam folded it the correct way, handed it back to Niall, and smiled at the pair of them.

‘Lead the way.’

Harry joined them as well, and the four of them set off towards the closest metro station. Getting to the docks took them a little longer than expected because they encountered a group of football enthusiasts who recognized them as they got out of Perrache. Louis took pictures with all of them and started signing some personal belongings when somebody whipped out a sharpie. The other three waited for him to finish – Liam had taken his fair share of pictures with some of them, as had Niall, but Louis was obviously the most popular with the fans.

When he finally finished, the four of them took off for the boats. They walked together quietly for a while, the silence a stark contrast to the loud flurry of excited fans that had surrounded them not a minute ago.

‘Is it always like this?’ Harry asked. ‘When you go out, I mean?’

Louis shrugged. ‘Depends on the place, really. To be honest I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner today. Most of football-loving Europe is in Lyon right now. We were bound to be recognized.’

Harry hummed, and after a few more minutes of walking in silence they reached the ticket booth and entrance for the boat tour. Liam got them tickets on the next tour, which would leave in about five minutes. The small, low boat was already there waiting for them, and the four of them got on board. There were more tourists on the boat, but none of them seemed to be football enthusiasts because they left them alone.

Louis somehow ended up sitting at the window, with Harry’s thigh pressing into his thanks to the cramped seats.

When the boat took off, Louis could hear Niall and Liam chattering comfortably behind them. The French tour guide explained things about the city as they moved, but his English was so bad Louis gave up trying to understand him five minutes into the tour. Instead, he just stared out the window and tried not to focus on the fact that his left hand, which was resting on his thigh, was very _very_ close to Harry’s. If he wanted to, he could reach over and take it without Niall and Liam even noticing.

Louis kind of wanted to.

His earlier conversation with Liam was still fresh in his mind, and he tried to think of anything else – literally _anything_ else, but his extremely unhelpful brain kept coming back to Harry. _You’re pretty far gone for this kid._ Louis sighed softly, and he stared at his hand again.

Louis reached over and rested his hand on top of Harry’s. He would’ve liked to be able to say his hand covered Harry’s, but in truth Louis’ hand probably fit in Harry’s like four times – Harry’s hands were enormous. Louis tried not to linger on that for too long.

Harry’s response was minimal, possibly because Niall and Liam were _right there_ , or maybe he wasn’t really prepared for something like this to happen (Louis couldn’t blame him). For a split second, Louis was convinced he’d made a terrible mistake. Then, Harry turned his hand palm up, so Louis could slot his fingers between Harry’s. Harry closed his hand around Louis’ and squeezed softly.

Louis looked at Harry briefly before going back to staring out of the window. He’d caught the small smile playing around Harry’s lips and Louis had to suppress a giggle. He squeezed back.

Liam had been right. He _was_ pretty far gone.

*

When they finally opened the door to their cabin again later that day it had already gone dark outside. Louis was exhausted, but in a good way. He’d needed a day like this, to snap him out of the football haze for a little bit. He was glad his friends were also his colleagues, so they could keep an eye on him in situations like this.

He told them as much as they all piled into the cabin.

‘We love you too, Tommo,’ Niall cooed in his ear, before pressing a loud wet kiss onto Louis’ cheek. ‘And today was great. But I’m dead on my feet and we have practice tomorrow, so I’m taking a shower and then I’m off to bed. Night, lads.’

And with that, he disappeared into the bathroom he shared with Liam.

‘Actually,’ Liam said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and stifling a yawn, ‘I think Nialler’s got the right idea. See you tomorrow, Tommo.’

Louis nodded at him and turned around, expecting to see Harry there, but he found himself alone in the kitchen annex living room. He frowned and walked over to their area of the cabin. Harry’s bedroom door was ajar, and there was a light on. Louis knocked softly.

‘Harry?’

‘Come in,’ Harry’s voice came, and Louis opened the door. When he stepped into Harry’s room, Louis wondered for a second if he was still in the same cabin his own room was in. The stark contrast between his bare, hotel-like bedroom and what Harry had turned his own room into almost knocked him over. He closed the door behind him and tried to take it all in.

Harry had put photographs, in actual frames, on his bedside table and on the large dresser. There were books everywhere, and there wasn’t a suitcase in sight. The door of a wardrobe identical to the one in Louis’ room was ajar, and Louis could see Harry had actually put his clothes in it. If Louis’ eyes didn’t deceive him, he’d even colour coordinated them. The main lights in the room were off, and Harry had turned on both bedside lamps, spreading a warm, golden glow over the room.

In the middle of this, there was Harry, sitting on the floor with his back against the huge bed, hugging his knees and looking utterly miserable.

‘Um,’ Louis started, not really sure what he was going to say in the first place. He closed the door behind him and went to sit down next to Harry on the floor. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Seeing as you’re actually _pouting_ right now, you can’t blame me for not entirely believing that.’

‘I’m not pouting. I never pout.’

‘Honestly, Harold, you pout all the time.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

Louis turned his head to look at Harry. ‘What, _Harold_?’

Harry nodded.

‘Okay. Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘Yes.’

Louis got up again, totally unconvinced but hey, if Harry wasn’t willing to open up who was he to force him to do so? He’d leave him alone. Fine. Nothing to worry about. The second his hand landed on the door knob, though, he heard a sniffle behind him. Turning around, he saw Harry had put his head on his knees. His shoulders were shaking.

Louis went back to Harry, kneeled down in front of him and wrapped his arms around him to envelop him in the most awkward hug he had ever given.

‘Hey,’ Louis said, softly. ‘Hey, come up here so I can hug you properly, okay?’

Harry complied and got up as Louis did the same, and as soon as they were both upright Harry curled into Louis, fingers tangling in the fabric at the back of Louis’ shirt, face pressed into Louis’ shoulder.

Louis just let Harry cry for a few minutes, until the sobs started to subside a little and Harry just sniffled into Louis’ shoulder every few seconds.

‘Alright, let’s sit down for a minute,’ Louis muttered into Harry’s ear, and sat him down on the edge of the bed. ‘Now, when I ask you if you’re okay you _know_ you’re allowed to tell me that you’re not, right? That’s why I’m asking.’

Harry gave a watery chuckle and wiped his eyes furiously with his sleeve.

‘I just – I miss my mum. And my sister. And the rest of my family. I’ve never been, like, away from them for so long, like, on my own. And then you called me Harold today and I _know_ it’s just a silly little thing but my sister always calls me Harold and I just – I miss them.’ Harry sighed deeply. ‘I’m sorry I cried on you just now. I didn’t mean to. But, like, today was so _nice_ and I just… I dunno. I feel stupid now.’ Another chuckle.

Louis was wondering if this was the first time since meeting Harry that he’d heard him speak uninterrupted for so long. He realised it was a shame most people never just let him ramble for a little.

‘Don’t apologise,’ Louis said. ‘You can always cry on me if you need to, I brought more than enough shirts and I’m sure your snot washes out.’

‘ _Heeeeeey._ ’

Louis grinned at him. ‘I’m serious though. I’m just across the hall if you ever need me.’

Harry looked back and gave a tiny nod. Louis realised there was less than a couple of inches of space between them and damn it, he knew he would be getting himself into trouble but after spending all day with Harry without being able to do anything but hold hands when nobody else could see it – it was _frustrating_ , all right?

‘I really want to kiss you right now,’ Louis muttered, staring at Harry’s lips. ‘But if you don’t want me to, all you have to -’

Louis was unable to finish his sentence when Harry pressed his lips firmly against his. Louis got with the program immediately and tangled his hand in Harry’s hair to pull him even closer, licking into Harry’s mouth. Harry grabbed Louis’ side and snaked his hand into his shirt to scratch at Louis’ back softly.

Louis tried to keep himself from making any sounds but Harry was making that very difficult for him, and Louis knew that if he allowed the situation to progress from here, he would not be sleeping in his own bed tonight. With all the willpower in the world, he made himself pull back a little, pressing a small closed-mouthed kiss on Harry’s lips.

‘I should really go and get some sleep,’ Louis said, breathing hard, getting up and making his way towards the door once again. ‘Like Niall said, early practice tomorrow. Um.’ He turned around at the door and looked back at Harry, who was staring at him with a dazed expression. Louis grinned at him. ‘I _will_ see you tomorrow.’

He winked and relished the way Harry’s face lit up before he closed the door to Harry’s bedroom behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this one! If you did, kudos and/or comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> If you want, you can find me on Tumblr (@powerflouncing) or Twitter (@panthouse).


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